Snowpoint House
by PRKoneko
Summary: This is a place separate from the world shown in cartoons and games. This is the reality of nature, and the way it affects Pokemon. This is a haven, a place of safety. This is Snowpoint House. OneshotChapters.
1. Welcome to Snowpoint House

**Snowpoint House**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon. Otherwise, I would not be writing Fanfics, I would be writing episodes. . Get your priorities right, Ninty. Start making games, not sueing teenagers.**

* * *

The door to the home opened and Clarise looked up from her paperwork. A young boy, about 12 years of age had just stepped up to the front desk.

"Hello there, how may I help you?" Clarise asked cheerily. The boy didn't smile.

"I want a Pokémon, please. My… my Murkrow just died…" he blinked back tears.

"Oh, that's terrible, but I must advise you that the Pokémon we have here aren't exactly training material. They're more suited to being pets, and their owners must be prepared to care for them. You do understand?" Clarise tried to console the boy. "Perhaps you should go and see Professor Rowan in Sandgem Town?"

"It's too far away, and my family are leaving for a holiday in the Orange Islands tomorrow. I was hoping I could have a Pokémon to take with me…"

"But the Pokémon here are all Ice types," Clarise reminded him.

"I'm willing to care. I'm not a trainer. At most, I coordinate. Even then, it's only during the Winter Festival," the boy pleaded with Clarise. She sighed.

"If you're prepared, I could show you around and maybe you'll see a Pokémon you want to take. What's your name?"

"Billy."

"Ok, Billy, come with me."

Clarice ducked out of the desk, cursing the fact that the door was stuck fast, and ushered Billy to the door to the housing kennels.

* * *

Outside, rows of cages loomed over Billy. Looking through them, he could see a large indoor area for the Pokémon to stay in, but most had their faces pressed against the bars, hopeful.

"I must tell you now, these first five Pokémon on the right aren't for adoption," Clarise warned. Billy looked at them.

"How come?"

"Well, this Piloswine," Clarise indicated the large furry Pokémon, "is blind. He was never return to the wild. The Glaceon lost her tail in a fight and no longer has any balance. Next month we're going to fit her with an artificial one, tag her and re-release her. This Dewgong here was born with malformed flippers and tail, so our volunteers are raising his confidence and teaching it how to swim. Then, though, he'll be so used to humans that he won't get released."

"I thought trained Pokémon were released all the time."

"No, Billy. When a trainer 'releases' a Pokémon, it is transported to the nearest Laboratory, and then sent to wherever it is more suited too. Like how Ice Pokémon with problems are all sent here. There are places like this all over the world, with hundreds of different types of Pokémon, all of whom have been abandoned by their owners. And most of the time it's because they have something wrong with them. Pokémon that are healthy are snapped up quickly. And we have to deal with the problem Pokémon."

"That's terrible!"

"It's the sad truth, Billy. Now, you see this Snover? It's got a genetic problem with its pigmentation." Clarise indicated a Snover with red hands. "We're releasing that one in around two week's time. And then… there's this one."

Billy peered into the cage at a shapeless figure hunched in one corner. By the large pink ear, he could tell it was a female Sneasel.

"What's wrong with her?" Billy asked. In his head, he was already visualising himself, victorious, at a Pokémon Contest, his beautiful and powerful Sneasel at his side.

"She killed her previous owner."

Billy stumbled. His visions paled away and a shiver went down his spine.

"Uh… do you have any more Sneasel here?" he asked hopefully.

"No. Sorry. Ok, here are the Pokémon that are up for adoption. Be careful, though, some of them are dangerous. Don't get too close," Clarise warned Billy, and then let him wander off along the rows of Pokémon.

Clarise leant in towards the five Pokémon at the front of the row. She patted the poor blind Piloswine on the head, and he chewed his tusks appreciatively. Then she turned to the Sneasel.

"What are we going to do with you?" she whispered. The Sneasel turned slightly and glared at her. It tugged at its notched ear with its filed-down claws until it broke the skin, and then licked at its own blood. Clarise shivered.

"Clarise, could you tell me about these two Pokémon, please?" Billy called. He was pointing to two cages, one with a small, round Spheal and the other with a large, ragged Froslass.

"Well, the Froslass is diabetic and requires daily injections of insulin. And that Spheal there has short-term memory loss. He needs someone to keep an eye on him at all times."

"Oh. Well, what about that Smoochum?"

"She's one of the more dangerous ones. I'd advise you not to take her until next month, when a man who can make Pokémon forget moves comes. You see how the front of her enclosure is soundproof glass?" Billy nodded. "That's because of her Perish Song."

"Oh my."

"Indeed. Tell you what, around the other side of here are three Lapras. One of them has a tendency to bite, but the two girls are extremely sociable."

"Then why are they here?"

"Oh, one has a minor speech impediment. She'll be the one that says 'Dabras' instead of Lapras. And the other has one flipper shorter than the other. So it drags when she swims. But if you take Dabras – and you can rename her, by the way – you'll be able to surf on her around the Orange Islands. That'll be good. And the back of a Lapras is a great place to catch lots of Pokémon, right? And you could practice coordination moves with her as well, she knows lots of great TM moves," Clarise ushered Billy around the other side of the cages. As she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of the Sneasel again. She was stood at the bars of the cage, tears rolling down her cheeks. Clarise turned away to follow Billy towards the Lapras.

* * *

Clarise waved as Billy went on his way, carrying the Pokéball triumphantly. As she returned under the stuck door of her desk, she remembered seeing the Sneasel crying. She tried to shake the image out of her head, but it remained there.

Leafing through the paperwork, she found the key to her file cabinet hidden under some food prices. Quickly, she opened the cabinet, stuffed the Lapras's file into the 'Adopted' section and picked out the Sneasel's file. Curious, she began to read…


	2. Sneasel

**Snowpoint House**

**Sneasel**

**Please note, this between sections are the Pokemon's stories, not what Clarise is reading. Don't worry, it's pretty much the same, but this is more interesting. And, as always, I do not own Pokemon.**

* * *

I didn't understand why a Pokémon would want to be trained.

Maybe I was naïve. Or maybe I was just plain ignorant. I was the middle child of a family of nine and had absolutely nothing special about me. My older siblings had long since left, to explore more exotic climates. My younger siblings were still imagining battles and acting out triumphant scenes, throwing Apricorns for the others to catch.

I was expected to help around the household. I never saw the appeal in training.

And yet, when out on an errand, I met a being so strange, so unusual, I instantly felt something between us. And when he saw me, I'm sure he felt the same. Cautiously, I approached him, and he accepted my presence, and we walked together.

That was when my eyes were opened. I saw, and my heart swelled with joy. With Sam, my new friend, I met all kinds of new Pokémon, I encountered a whole manner of new situations, and most importantly, I was free.

I was free.

So what's happened now?

I'm trapped, caged. I didn't become strong enough, and so I was put away. I am nothing now: I am broken. My heart no longer beats; my lungs no longer take air. I am not alive. I am imprisoned here, in this half-life. I have no more hopes or dreams.

I _trusted _him. And this is how he repays me.

I float in nothingness. If I had form, it would lack enough energy to even attack him. I feel like there should be tears rolling down my face, but there is nothing. No moisture can exist here, in this god-awful place, lest it destroy itself. And then I would cease to exist.

My data travels here. My mind does not. I have no idea how I am able to think. At most, I am aware of myself. After that, thoughts are a struggle. But one thing is clear. When I get out of here, I am going to kill him.

First, I will claw across his stomach. Then, I will go for the face. I will drink his flowing blood before I finally draw out his heart and eat it. I will enjoy every bite of his life-giver. It will restore what life he took away from me.

That boy will die by my claws. Mark my words.

* * *

"BREAKING NEWS!

A boy has been killed at the Snowpoint Pokémon Centre after a Sneasel he released from storage mortally attacked him. Said Sneasel has escaped into the wild but is considered dangerous and should not be approached. The Pokémon should be recognised by a notch in its left ear and a star-shaped marking on its chest. Trainers are being advised NOT to attempt capture and to call the following number should the Pokémon be sighted…"

I watched through the window of a human's house. So, they were hunting for me? I decided that, if they dared come near, I would slaughter them, like I had slaughtered Sam.

In the snow behind me, I had left bloody footprints. I let them be, jumping to the rooftops and heading for the lake. I paused for a second to lick a drop of blood from the tip of my claws.

It would be cliché to say revenge was sweet. To my taste buds, it was slightly salty.


	3. Trade Back

**Snowpoint House**

**Pokemon Company - don't sue.**

* * *

The trainer stepped up to Snowpoint House. In her right hand, she held a slip of folded paper, a column and a picture, clipped from a newspaper. Confidently she entered the building, where Clarise was dumbfounded by what she was reading. The trainer coughed, and she jumped a little.

"Hello there. I'd like to look around the Pokémon you have here," the trainer declared. Clarise shook her head.

"I'm very sorry, but we were just about to close. You're free to visit tomorrow, through."

"No, I'm here now," the trainer interrupted rudely. "There is a specific Pokémon here that belongs to me. I'd like to be reunited, if you don't mind."

"If your Pokémon is here, it must be because you abandoned it. If are truly willing to seek it out, I'm afraid you'll have to take it up with Professor Rowan. He's in charge of where abandoned Pokémon go," Clarise explained. The trainer scowled and leaned in close.

"Listen, lady, that Pokémon is mine, and I'm going to take it with me tonight, whether you like it or not. Now, you're going to show me to the cage you're keeping it in, and you're going to release it, and I'm going to take it away with me. Then, you are going to destroy every piece of information you have about it. So, where are you keeping my Sneasel?"

"You… your Sneasel? But that Pokémon killed its trainer," Clarise stated. The trainer shook her head, her long black hair dropping down around her face.

"That trainer traded me a Shiny Magikarp for it. I tried to raise it to a Gyarados, but guess what? The lousy Grimer painted the damn thing. So, I tried to return it, but what does he do? Laugh in my face and stick my precious Pokémon in storage for three whole damn years. I would have killed him if Sneasel hadn't gotten there first," the trainer was now shaking her fist at Clarise. "So, give me my Pokémon back!"

"I… I can't. That Sneasel is dangerous!" Clarise backed away from the trainer, but she grabbed her collar. The last thing Clarise remembered was a fist racing towards her face.

* * *

Clarise opened her eyes. It was dark outside, and it took her a second to remember why there was blood pouring out of her nose. She shot up as though she had been subject to a Thunderbolt raced out of the office.

Out by the cages, she stopped and fell to her knees in the snow. Her keys were hanging from the open door to the empty Sneasel cage. She let out a wail of despair, one long, wordless note, inhuman, haunting and chilling.

Two days later, the trainer was found, stone dead, along with five dead Pokémon. A difficult decision had been reached, and the Sneasel had been due to be destroyed the following day, but had somehow escaped and disappeared into the wild.

Clarise shook her head. This had all been unnecessary pain. She vowed never to allow a Pokémon that dangerous under the roof of this refuge she had created. With a heavy heart, she placed Sneasel's file into the 'departed' section of the filing cabinet, the place she usually put all the Pokémon that had been adopted.

While in the action of doing this, her eye wandered over to the other files. Hesitantly, she reached in randomly, pulling out the file belonging to the blind Piloswine. Locking the cabinet, she took the file over to her comfy armchair, switched on the gas fire and began to read.


End file.
